


Good Man

by Janekfan



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Caretaking, Crying, Delirium, Fainting, Fever, Friendship, Gen, Jon just wants Martin, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Alice "Daisy" Tonner Are Best Friends, Loneliness, Mutual Pining, Pining, Self-Indulgent, Sickfic, The Lonely - Freeform, collapse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:30:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26333422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janekfan/pseuds/Janekfan
Summary: Martin and Jon cross paths.Jon isn't doing so well.Luckily, he's got Daisy.
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Alice "Daisy" Tonner
Comments: 28
Kudos: 236





	Good Man

**Author's Note:**

> _Singing_ : Self indulgent traaash <3 <3 <3

Inevitably, Martin crossed paths with Jon in a hallway despite his promise to Lukas. And despite that promise, he couldn’t help but notice his poor condition, like a stiff breeze would be enough to do away with him. He was trailing a heavily scarred hand against the wall for support and didn’t seem to notice him.

“Jon?” He looked up slowly, head heavy, eyes blank and bright and filling with sorrow when he realized who was in front of him. 

“S’sorry, ge’out of your way.” But when he went to step around Martin, his bad leg buckled and instead of making any attempt to break his own fall, Jon tipped forward, sprawling out on the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Before he could react, Daisy swung around a corner.

“Oh, thank christ.” She was out of breath, shaken, falling to her knees and carefully tipping him towards her. “I told you to stay put.” Martin watched her fuss, patting his cheek to rouse him and tsking at his temperature. 

“Nnghur’s…” What hurts? Martin had yet to intervene, standing awkwardly off to the side and worrying like mad without the right to. 

“I know, told you I’d be back.” She glanced up at Martin, sharp eyes pinning him in place like a butterfly, like she meant to keep him under glass. “Questions?” They narrowed further. “If not, he needs some space. Unless you plan on sticking around for a bit.”

“What’s that mean?” Martin couldn’t help feeling frustrated, snapping at her and regretting the bite in his voice immediately when Jon seemed to perk up, head lolling where it was now pillowed in Daisy’s lap. 

“I’m. Well, I won’t say I’m sorry.” One hand buried in Jon’s hair turned his face into her stomach as though to shield his view. “He’s having a rough go of things and. And he’s not been well.” With care he wouldn’t have expected from Daisy, she looked down at him, tucked his flyaways back, smoothing almost nervously along to where it was all tied back in a messy bun. “He. Misses you, Martin.” 

“I’ve explained why I can’t. I. I shouldn’t even be here right now!” 

“I know that! He knows that. It doesn’t stop these _feelings_ he succumbs to when he's star--” She bit her lip, unsure. “When he’s struggling.” Cryptic. That’s fine. 

“I can help.” She scoffed, still playing with his hair. “At least. I. To wherever he wandered away from.” 

“Dragging him by his ankles is probably not the best for him.” While she concurred, it looked like it physically pained her to do so. Martin took that as permission and bent down to ease his arms beneath Jon’s diminished body. “Careful!” When he groaned wordlessly, hot and limp in his hold. “Just, there. On the cot.” It turned out that Jon hadn’t made it very far, just barely out the door of document storage and having turned a corner into the hall. The place was set up like a sickroom with half a dozen different pill bottles, bandages, antiseptic, clean water all lined up and organized on the filing cabinets. A basin holding water and a flannel sat beside the cot, sheets rumpled and in disarray, trailing on the floor where Jon must’ve fought his way out. What was happening here? He didn’t even want to think about why there was a key stuck in the lock outside. “He’s burning up.” Daisy returned to her fretting, wringing the cloth and draping it folded over his closed eyes, telling him not unkindly, to hush. 

“He has bad days and not so bad days.” 

“Please tell me this isn’t a not so bad day.” Martin joked darkly, unable to hide his worry, knowing he had to leave and leave soon. 

“It’s. He hasn’t had a statement in a while. It gets. Uh.” Daisy’s hands shook and she ran her fingers through her own short sheared hair. “Bad.” Martin’s heart constricted in his chest to see Jon like this and have to leave him. He couldn’t even offer to help. Not without risking them all.

“I--” 

“I know.” She tapped some medication into her hand. “Just, quietly, yeah?” Martin nodded, slipping silently through the door and closing it behind him before pressing his back against the wall. 

Listening.

“Take these, mhm. Now a sip.” A plastic water bottle crinkled in someone’s hands. “More if you can.” Jon’s refusal was barely audible and more whimper than word. “Okay, alright.” Shuffling bed linens, the sound of water wrung from the cloth again. “What’s wrong, Jon?” And the way she said his name was like an endearment. 

“H’h’hates me.” And god, he was weeping. Exhausted, broken little cries. Please let Daisy be comforting him somehow. Please, when he couldn’t be there to do it and damn Peter Lukas and damn his plans. 

“Martin?” He imagined her stroking his head like she did before. Soft. So unlike her. But she was of the Hunt and needed a pack. Perhaps Jon was it. “He could never, foolish man.” Something like teasing. Martin remembered the feeling of Jon in his arms, a fragile, breakable thing made of scarred skin stretched over sharp, angular bones. 

But Jon was still crying. Struggling to breathe. And no, Martin, you cannot go back in there. Because you’re doing this _for him_. It would be worth it. In the end, it would be. He clung to that. 

“You said he was doing something important, yeah?” More blankets shifting and he risked a glance, just a small one. No harm done, certainly. Because being on the outside of all this, _intruding_ on _this_ , was about as Lonely as one could be. Daisy was laying beside him on the cot now and he was tucked up close and quivering. With thin, wasted hands she brushed away glistening tears. “And you trust him, yeah?” 

“Mor’an, mor’an anythin’...” To hear Jon’s strong voice reduced to this. This trembling, shattered thing.

“So?” If anything, he cried harder and Martin didn’t think he could take another moment. “Hush now, shh, just the fever making you weepy.” Muffled now, he pictured his face hidden away against her shoulder. “We’ve talked about you getting more sleep, Jon.” 

“Mmh.” Damp and choking. 

“It’ll help you feel better, to get proper rest.” Despite the dreams he stalked through and the pain he caused others without ever meaning to. Wanting to. “‘Nother sip, come on now.” Though hitching, his breath was even. Becoming slow. “Close your eyes. That’s it. Good man.” 

And there were so few left here.


End file.
